


Melodic Mystery

by GeniusCactus



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 19:18:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10837713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeniusCactus/pseuds/GeniusCactus
Summary: What's that beautiful sound reverberating through the halls?





	Melodic Mystery

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Yrindor’s tenipuri ship fest thing. It was nice to have the opportunity to write these two! :D

As Atobe strode through the narrow sweat stinking halls of the U-17 dorms, a delightful little musical riff danced upon his ear. The tune startled him, as it wasn’t any of that common people’s sexual rap funk he come accustomed to his teammates blasting. Twas actually rather harmonious, as music ought to be. He closed his eyes letting the sound waves float to his core. Only one artist had this riveting effect on him...

_Wagner_

If Kabaji were there he would have snapped his fingers at once, demanding his friend-servant fetch whoever was playing the marvelous music. But Kabaji was gone, and Atobe had to do a common man’s work himself.

Atobe followed his ear towards the direction of the melodious tune. It seemed to be coming from the end of the hallway, either room 201 (plant freaks) or room 202 (Potion masters, strange sandal wearing guy, and someone else...) Atobe couldn’t quite put his finger on who else was in that room, but he probably didn’t like him.

The door to room 202 was propped ajar, Atobe hesitantly peered in only to be hit with a waft of some wondrously floral scent. How curiously refreshing. Fortunately, it appeared the two potions masters were absent. Oh, that’s right! They had left the camp with Kabaji. Thank tennis. And, the sandals wearing weirdo was also elsewhere, probably engaging in some illicit activity with his ‘ecstasy’ friend across the hall. That left only...

“Why hello there, Atobe Keigo,” greeted St. Rudolph’s Manager. He twirled lock of hair between his thumb and forefinger in a manner Atobe found oddly attractive.

Atobe had never paid much mind to him, but couldn’t help but notice the way his heart fluttered up to his throat when Mizuki said his full name, _Atobe Keigo._ Absolutely aggravating. He was a king! It was his job to make other people sigh and moan with unrequited want and need. Not the other way around.

This needed to be remedied immediately. **The** Atobe Keigo wouldn’t be played with like an old tennis ball. He was a player. A tennis player.

“Ahn,” Atobe combed his fingers through his hair, making certain his appearance was on point. “You listen Wagner, hnn?” He gestured to the record player spinning a tune on Mizuki’s desk. It was a nice record player, well for a commoner that is. Not nearly as nice as the ones in his own home of course, but the lesser privileged couldn’t be expected to afford that type of finery.

“Listen? Oh, Atobe Keigo,” Mizuki clicked his tongue in what Atobe found to be a slightly condescending manner, “I don’t just listen, I perform it. I’m a _professional_ opera singer.” And, it wasn’t a complete lie, because Mizuki was planning to sing at the professional level...eventually.

_Simply marvelous._ Atobe thought, as Wagner was but his favorite artist. “I hope that one of your performances has the pleasure of my attendance.”

Mizuki ignored Atobe’s comment as he was only a Middle School opera singer in training and had no performances for anyone to attend. Instead Mizuki patted a seat next to him on his bed asking, “would you like to take a listen with me Atobe Keigo? The next track is my favorite.”

“Naturally,” said Atobe, as if sitting on Mizuki’s bed listening to records was doing him some great service. In Atobe’s mind he probably thought it was. Atobe spread himself out grandly, showing his dominance like the men on the subway who take up multiple seats when everyone knows they only need one. Atobe’s knee cap brushed against Mizuki’s causing the twirly haired boy to shoot Atobe a sour look and shift away.

This action puzzled Atobe, as usually The People were paying to touch any part of him. For the first time in his richie rich life, Atobe Keigo felt as if he might have to sweat a bit to gain the affections of the one he desired. Troublesome.

They listened to the Wagner record until Mizuki’s sandals wearing roommate returned, reeking of illicit substances. With haste Mizuki spritzed the air with his rose infused essential oils and departed. Atobe decided it was high time he take his own leave, feeling it would only be polite to invite Mizuki to the private rose petal bath he directed Kabaji to install before he left.


End file.
